


Compatible

by THA_THUMPP



Category: The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: Chair Bondage, Kinky, M/M, Mindfuck, One Shot, Psycho Break, Psychological Torture, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 03:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2493482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/THA_THUMPP/pseuds/THA_THUMPP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian Castellanos wakes up bound to the chair in the mirror, the safe haven, unsure how or why he's even there. But he's not alone. Someone else is in the room with him - that someone being none other than <em>Ruvik</em>. The madman's slinking in and out the shadows like a stalker, twisting himself hard with dirty desires for Sebastian, and somehow his thoughts are affecting the detective physically, like they have a cerebral communion, or something even more intimate...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compatible

**Author's Note:**

> We scream when we see Ruvik. Not a scared scream though. It's more like a fangirling come-hither-and-wrap-your-arms-around-Sebastian-right-now kind of scream. This game... Thank you, Mikami.

Ruvik’s smile is playing hide-and-seek as he paces around the stygian blackness of Sebastian Castellanos’ chamber, the wonky ward through the mirror.

The walls are tainted by age and neglect, the machinery no different in its grays than the chair in the middle, which’s where Sebastian is chained now. His wrists bound by metal clamps, digging into his flesh and rubbing it red when he finally stirs. And at first it’s just a grunt, a small sound of recognition, and then it’s his eyes.

The solitary light dangling above is hissing with short-circuiting pops of electricity, all sporadic and weighty, just like Sebastian’s lids. He groggily pulls his head from his chest where it’s drooped, the back of his skull nearly touching the headrest of the chair when he fully straightens himself and squints.

His vision is hazy, his mind amped from the pain, and when he lets his head bounce again he cringes. There’s a snapping in his chest, and for a moment Sebastian considers that he must’ve broken a rib or two during his fall – during whatever the hell he’d call it, actually. A tumble in space, an upside-down launch and landing? Neither sound anywhere close, but the sting’s still real, and Sebastian curses inwardly as he tries to move his hands to check the damage.

But the chains won’t let him.

“Are you…” Another twinge in Sebastian’s chest cuts his breath short as he gathers enough strength to curve his neck at Ruvik, who’s still watching and pacing – gliding like a shadow with steps as silent as the grave. “Are you the one behind all this?”

Except he doesn’t get an answer, not even acknowledgment, and a deadly silence drapes over the two like a veil: captor and captive.

“The others…” Sebastian’s words are bemused when he speaks up again, slurred when he can’t find the strength to hold his head higher any longer. The same goes for his shoulders, which soon drop too as he checks his restraints with a few lazy yanks, up until they escalate and turn into a frantic panic. “Joseph? Kidman— What did you do with them? Where are they!”

But it’s no use – just like Sebastian’s search for truth. The chains are unbreakable, no matter how strong his desire for freedom is. They’re constricting. Smooth. One second they’re cold, the next a bitter burn on his skin, like barbed wire with the persona of a snake, twisting more and more around his wrists the longer he fights.

_Tighter._

The word lingers on Ruvik’s tongue, on the tip kept behind his keen lips as he tucks his chin in a loury turn, like a spider drawn to the fly struggling in his web – a web of mind games. Though it’s just one in particular, and Ruvik lugs his tawny eyes to the detective’s shoes and then to the man’s face in a baleful stride. Slow, and ominous as he admires Sebastian’s tensing body and the palpable prickle of his gaze.

It looks like revulsion, and Ruvik mirrors the expression. Lighter, of course, seeing as he’s the one bottled with excitement. And in the blink of an eye he manifests closer, only a few feet, but it’s enough to scare Sebastian, who throws his head back against the chair in a spur of the moment flinch, not really sure of Ruvik’s intentions.

The detective’s face says it all. The horror. The confusion. Though it’s Sebastian’s snarl that sends Ruvik for a loop, and his nipples visibly harden among the scars and burns under his white coat, unlike the indiscernible knot between his legs. Oh yes, how he’d love nothing more than to take this man here, to pin Sebastian against the wall by the neck and have his way with him. There’s a faded hum and Ruvik closes his eyes in a gauzy leer as he imagines the groans. The thrusts, the clawing, the pugnacious struggles – all of which would give him pain.

Pain and pleasure.

And it’s only after Ruvik opens them again that Sebastian feels a force creeping up his leg, a questionable numbness. It stalls under the inner thigh of his right leg, tightening like there’s a hand groping him. An _invisible_ hand, and the sensation doesn’t stop there. It travels higher, right up to the zipper of his pants – just below his belt.

Sebastian squirms uncomfortably, trying to close his legs, to press his knees together. But his ankles are clamped to the legs of the chair as well, which leaves him very little to work with – if he can work at all. And Sebastian jolts forward, his shoulders peeling from the back of the chair, but only far enough to allow some air to part the cloth sticking to his skin. His trenchless waist, which only leaves him in a colorless dress shirt and debonair vest.

But just because they’re still buttoned doesn’t mean he’s safe.

Cloth is, after all, no armor against the torture of the mind – the _suggestions_ – and right now, Sebastian’s an open book. A chapter reserved for Ruvik’s eyes only, to browse his body like it’s a page of text, to learn _everything_ he can about the great Detective Sebastian Castellanos. Better yet, learn about what the man craves, what he fears – most of which Ruvik already knows. But Sebastian is in the hands of a madman who wants nothing more than to him hospitalize him…

He wants to break him, to make Sebastian his – and _his_ alone.

Ruvik’s enthusiasm peeks from under his hood as he teleports closer again, in less than an instant, a rippling wave that soon settles when he reaches out to trace a slender finger along Sebastian’s sharp chin, like his nail is the tip of a pencil and he’s outlining the detective’s profile in his head. Filling in all those wonderful features, the shapes and curves – they’re so practical with his profession.

So perfect.

A true masterpiece, and Ruvik continues to paint with his mind’s eye, drawing his gaze over the sinewy veins popping from the thick skin on Sebastian’s neck, all the way underneath the man’s taut vest and then to the pants fitting his lanky legs.

Sebastian grunts and jerks away from Ruvik’s touch like it’s charged with electricity, his fists clenched like his teeth. The chains are taking the blunt end of his rebellion with their clamps and angry _clacks_ , but there’s only so far-flung he can get, and it isn’t enough for comfort. Which is when he spits at Ruvik’s feet.

Ruvik’s eyes flash darkly and that’s when Sebastian’s temples start throbbing. The corner of his left eye feels numb, like something’s slowly being shoved into his skull, like someone’s performing a lobotomy on his brain – splitting him in two…

The pain is tangible, and Sebastian sounds like a tethered boar as he squeals and tramps his body against the frame of the chair, wildly in agony before he bows forward in a transparent surrender. His curses garbled, a mix between half-spoken _fucks_ and pure anguish.

“How… How are you doing this?” Sebastian finally croaks after he catches his breath. It sounds like he’s drowning in torment – something Ruvik doesn’t want to end just yet. He’s too thirsty, too sadistic, and Ruvik resorts to circling the detective like a vulture once again, like he’s just about ready to feast. His eyes as narrow as a beak as he continues to watch Sebastian writhe like a worm.

 _“Don’t you see?”_ Ruvik’s voice is soft like velvet, so angelic and pious despite his mangled appearance and white robes. A stitch in time, a stitch only growing, but Sebastian can see past the travesty…

He sees the _evil_ , and deep down he knows there’s a demon underneath all those tattered sutures and skin. A demon wearing the face of a cherub, which once in a while peeks from beneath Ruvik’s woven visage, just like his tone.

 _“You should be able to.”_ Ruvik pities, paying no heed to Sebastian’s glare.

A glare that stickles him like pins and needles when he kneels down between the detective’s legs. Though looks only bury so deep, and in reality it’s more like suds and backwater as he splays his fingers across the tops of Sebastian’s knees with a gentle push. Upwards and in towards the man’s hips, creasing Sebastian’s pants and lips.

 _“You and I…”_ Ruvik tilts his head in amusement at the garroted sound Sebastian makes, enjoying the color in the detective’s cheeks – a flushed red adorned by the warmth of his skin and raw wrists, and Ruvik smiles.

It’s seems Sebastian’s ready for him, for the real nightmare to begin, and without warning Ruvik stands, nose inches from the detective’s where he presses closer. Close enough to lay his crooked and hissing lips against Sebastian’s neck – the man’s pulse point – where he listens to it beat. _Feels_ it beat against his teeth as he opens his mouth.

But not to bite down, not yet, not until he lets Detective Sebastian Castellanos in on a little secret… _Their_ little secret.

_“We’re compatible.”_


End file.
